There is a coldness, a bitterness that grows with fervor
glancing back to younger days, days wild with unexpecting
with lips pulled back, bracing teeth for tomorrow, holding *****
Grit, I have none. I fear a wrinkled future, not the body, dreams:
Like a plant that goes to waste for weekends left unwatered,
Like a mad purple bruise throbs at night, lest you forget (fool!)
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
I pledge allegiance to this body
(it has been mine since my palms felt the inside of my mother)
of short stature
of thick hair
of symbolic curves
of the united state between a mother + father
and to the republic for which it stands —on strong feet—
(however cruel or judgmental or disrespectful its citizens may be )
one vessel under God
( for He is the One who moves my breath)
indivisible
(there is no other like me)
with liberty
(it was mine when knees first scraped pavement)
and justice for all
(this body is mine, and by it I will do no wrong)
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
between the book stacks
(in the reading corner of the coffee shop)
i sipped a mug of chamomile and honey tea
(maybe too fast)
you heard the muttered ****
(pardon my french)
a napkin suddenly appeared
(it was between Dahl and Dickinson)
the smile was unintentional
(i meant to keep my frown, really)
how could i resist those dimples
(and your charming way around puns)
funny how things work out
(or don't)
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
OH!
What feeling compares to the warmth inside these bones
when I awake at Dawn to a still house,
and comfortable bustle awaits
There is none!
no other mornings compare to such
what with floating voices and metaphoric hugs
a sunday to its monday; disparate
and i'd make the hours stretch if i could
like a Dough prepared for
round laughter
to be enjoyed with glasses of
tall bliss
every Eye i meet glimmers
Glimmers!
with amity to spare
and the Earth around is brimming
Brimming!
with wonder I cannot describe to you
in words
an ode
to sundays worth living for
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
often i've wondered
if pretty children
will wake up
under the sighs
of the weeping willow
and lay in marvel
under Her ancient beauty
or if they simply call it
by the name (tree)
and see it
by the sight
of green
or a tragic white
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
You know that feeling
mind is reeling
you are everywhere but
here
faces, voices, eyes alluding
to the "one over there"
the one intruding
and you check your palms
sweaty lines
tell the signs
this is not your home
but you enter anyway
we all do
enter houses that feel like itchy wool sweaters
and it's uncomfortable and you're not even sure you like it
but you tell others you've never been better
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
Of 7.3 million pages of stories and stories and stories
i know none
i know only my own
one page in the book of life
and i can only hope my page does not become so
damp with tears that i can no longer recognize
my own narrative
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
! !
!! !!!! !!!
!
!
you make me feel like fifty exclamation points
!! !
! !!! ! !!!
!! !
!!! !
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
humans are so fragile
one must handle another with care
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
what is this all for?
if i'm human and you're human
do you have the same scars?
the same stars? behind your eyes i mean
and can we share our stories and find where they intersect?
(what i'd like to ask every being i've ever met)
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC